


Because I'm Happy

by Fantom_of_the_Fiction



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantom_of_the_Fiction/pseuds/Fantom_of_the_Fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturday is Frederick Chilton's day off, which means it's his happy day. Or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I'm Happy

Frederick woke up with a start at the incessant beeping of his alarm clock at exactly nine o’clock and hit the snooze button. It was a Saturday, which meant that it was his free day. Which meant that it was the one day when he was able to be happy.

He smiled a big smile and rolled over, his mind working to remember the dream that he had just woken up from and trying to fall back asleep so he could continue it.

It was a happy dream, a perfect way to start out a happy day. He rarely had happy dreams like this. Well, he rarely had happy dreams to begin with. Which made this one that much happier.

He dreamt that was lying in a never ending field of flowers of all types and colors and smells. There were small animals all around him; baby bunnies, puppies, ducklings. And they were all wearing flower crowns. Even him! The little animals had made it for him. He was just about to name the little baby animals when his alarm went off.

He closed his eyes and snuggled into his pillow and sighed, his smile widening. What should he name them? What about Theodore for one of the bunnies? One of the ducklings had what looked like a little lightning bolt on his wing, so he decided to name him Dasher.

Frederick lay there dozing off for ten minutes, and then his alarm went off again, ripping him out of his happy daydream. He quickly reached over to his alarm clock and turned it off, not wanting to be interrupted again. It was a Saturday; he could sleep in.

He rolled back over and hugged his pillow again. But this time, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to slip back into a daydream. He frowned and hugged his pillow tighter.

His life was stressful enough already. Why couldn’t he just have this one thing? He deserved at least that.

With a sigh he turned onto his back and opened his eyes, staring at the bright white ceiling above him.

He thought about why his entire house seemed to be white.

Oh, that’s right. He’s afraid of the dark. He figured that if his house was painted light colors, the light would reflect off of the walls, making the interior less dark.

He had once thought about putting glow-in-the-dark stars in his ceiling. It was random and spur of the moment, but he had gone out and bought four packs of them. They’ve been living in a bag under his bed for the past three months. Maybe he should put them up at some point.

He sighed again and pushed the sad thoughts out of his mind. Today was going to be his happy day.

He got out of bed slowly, his bare skin becoming suddenly alert to the cold air in his room. He usually slept in his boxers, so his blankets had provided him with warmth against his traitorous bedroom that always seemed to be too cold in the mornings.

Putting his feet on the cool hardwood floor, he realized that his slippers weren’t there. Where were they?

He pulled a blanket off of his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders to keep him warm while he padded around his room, looking for his slippers. He poked his head into his bathroom, but didn’t see them.

Where could they be?

He went back to his bed, the bottom of the blanket trailing behind him. He stood by his bed for a moment or two, clearing his head of sleepiness. Then he crouched down and looked under his bed, and sure enough, there were his slippers. He reached under and pulled them out, plopping onto his behind and putting them on. His cold feet thanked him and he smiled.

He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, humming to a song with a nice beat that he made up as he went along, bobbing his head to the tune. He rinsed out his mouth and looked at himself in the mirror.

His hair was messy, as per usual. He took a shower the night before and went to bed with wet hair, so it was sticking up all over the place. Strangely enough, he thought it looked good. Maybe he would keep it that way today. He smiled.

He left the bathroom and stepped into his walk-in closet. He looked around at the various dress shirts, suits, polo shirts, and sweaters. He knew it was going to rain later but other than that it was supposed to be a nice day out today, so he elected to wear a black short-sleeved shirt and his favorite light blue button-up shirt with a pair of jeans.

He poked his head out of his closet and threw his blanket toward his bed. It was a bit too far away, so the blanket landed on the floor about eight feet from his bed.

He chewed his bottom lip, contemplating, and went over and put the blanket on his bed. Then he went back into his closet and pulled on his clothes.

As he was pulling on his button-up, he heard a rip. His heart skipped a beat as he pulled off the shirt and looked at it. He hoped that his shirt wasn’t ripped; it was his favorite one. His mother had given it to him for his birthday two years before, and she had embroidered his initials onto the lapel.

But sure enough, there was a rip right up the side.

He pouted and held the shirt out at arm’s length and stared at it with a sad look on his face.

He made a distressed noise and tossed it in his hamper. He would have to fix it later.

So he grabbed a white button-up shirt and put it on, being sure to do it extra carefully this time.

He pulled on a pair of socks and then sneakers, grabbed his phone and wallet, and left his house. He was on a mission for breakfast.

The air outside was warm and it made Frederick happy. Although his morning had its not-so-happy moments, he knew the rest of his day was going to be good. He would be sure of it.

He decided that he would walk today instead of drive. It was a half hour walk to the shopping area, anad he wasn’t too hungry yet. So he took a little stroll.

He passed a young woman walking a dog, and he stopped to pet it and talk to the owner.

“Good morning. Your dog is very cute.”

“Oh, thank you! Her name is Emma. She’s only a few months old, but she’s gotten really big.”

Frederick leaned down and held out a hand for Emma to sniff. “You’re a pretty dog.” He smiled.

Emma sniffed his hand and growled, baring her teeth at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He apologized and stood up.

“Emma, that was mean!” she scolded and turned to Frederick. “I’m so sorry, she’s not usually like that. She’s a very friendly dog, really.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I understand. Have a good day.” He nodded and smiled, trying to get away from the embarrassing situation.

She apologized again, and he reassured her that it was okay.

He continued on with his walk into town, and ten minutes later, he was at his favorite café, Bella’s.

He stepped inside and the scent of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air. He took a deep breath in and smiled.

He got in line and looked over the pastries in the display case. There were all sorts, but he as mainly focused on the chocolate chip muffins. They looked good. Moist and soft and chocolaty.

There were four customers ahead of him and two muffins left. He hoped they would hurry up so he could get a muffin.

The customer that was ordering then asked for a chocolate chip muffin. No matter, though. There was still one left.

After a few minutes, he was next in line. The man in front of him ordered a Latte. Frederick smiled and bounced a bit. He was going to get that muffin, and he was happy.

“Would that be all?” the cashier asked.

“Yes, that’s it.” The man handed the cashier his credit card.

It was silly, but he got butterflies in his stomach. He had been waiting to have a chocolate chip muffin from this café for a couple of weeks now, but they always seemed to run out.

“Oh, no, actually. Could I get a chocolate chip muffin with that, too?” the man in front of him asked.

“Of course.” The cashier smiled.

Frederick’s stomach dropped.

But… that was _his_ muffin…

The man was handed the muffin in a pastry bag. He gave the cashier a twenty dollar bill and told him to keep the change and moved along.

Frederick stepped up to the register with heavy feet.

“Good morning, sir.” The cashier, whose name read Brian, said cheerfully.

He sighed. “I suppose. Could I get a small Mocha Frappuccino please?”

“Certainly. Would you like anything else with that?”

Frederick looked over at where the chocolate chip muffins had been only moments before.

“No.” he sighed again.

“Name?”

“Frederick.”

Brian tapped in his order. “That’ll be four dollars and seventeen cents.”

Frederick handed Brian his card and he swiped it and handed it back to him.

“Have a wonderful day, sir.” Brian smiled.

Frederick grunted in response. He stepped down to the end of the counter to wait for his drink.

The man who stole his muffin was there. Frederick glared at him.

The man took the muffin out of the bag and took a huge bite out of it. Frederick drooled. It looked so good…

The man’s coffee order was handed to him, and he thanked the employee.

Frederick watched as the man left the café. The man stopped outside and took another bite of the muffin and threw it in a trashcan and walked away. Frederick’s jaw dropped and anger rose up inside his chest.

“One small Mocha Frapp for Frederick?” the employee called.

Frederick turned and grabbed the drink from him and muttered a thank you and promptly left the store.

He walked over to the trashcan that he man had dumped the muffin into. Sure enough, it was there, only half eaten and completely decent.

Maybe he could reach in and grab it? The man didn’t look or sound like he was sick, so surely he wouldn’t get sick from eating it.

He shrugged and was about to reach a hand in to take it out, but a passerby ran up to the trashcan and immediately vomited into it.

Frederick walked away.

He grumbled to himself as he walked along, aiming for the park. At least his coffee was good, as per usual. Not too hot and not too cold; just the right temperature. That’s what he liked about Bella’s.

He reached the park and stepped onto the cobblestone path, taking in a deep breath and trying to start fresh. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping and kids were playing on the playground, laughing and having fun like kids should do. He wished he had a childhood like that. But no. He was the awkward kid that was picked on a lot and no one came to his birthday parties, except for the kids whose parents forced to go. The only experience he ever had with playgrounds was being bullied on them. He managed to get on the swings once, but he was pushed off and face planted into the mulch.

He found himself an empty bench and tried not to think about that part of his life.

He sat there for an hour, watching the clouds go by. He thought about the dream he had about the little animals, how cute they were and how happy he was. He daydreamed about the animals sitting with him on the bench, chattering away about little things like what kinds of leaves and grass was tastier. One duckling even talked to him about philosophy. That made Frederick laugh, the happiness finally coming back to him.

He opened his eyes when his stomach growled. He hadn’t had a proper breakfast, and he needed to fill his stomach with something. He looked around and remembered that there was an ice cream stand that was usually around the corner from his bench.

He hadn’t had ice cream in the longest time. Maybe he would get some.

He stood up from the bench and tossed his empty coffee cup at the trash can. He didn’t see that it bounced off the lid and landed on the ground.

He strolled along the path with a skip in his step. His childhood may not have been the greatest, but he did remember that he loved ice cream. His mother would always take him out for ice cream on Friday nights after dinner if he had been good that week, which he usually was.

After a few minutes of walking, he reached the stand. He looked over the ice cream choices, contemplating which flavor he should get. He always used to get vanilla when he was a boy, so he decided on that. It was simple, too.

“Good morning.” He smiled at the woman behind the cart.

“Morning! What would you like?” she asked cheerfully, which in turn made Frederick feel happier.

“One scoop of vanilla, please.”

 “That’ll be two dollars, please.”

“Do you take cards?”

“No, I’m sorry, cash only.”

“Oh. Um, alright. Hold on.” He pulled out his wallet and looked through it. He had a one dollar bill and a handful of coins, so he handed her the bill and searched for a dollar’s worth of coins. Luckily he had two quarters and a few dimes which he handed her.

She thanked him and scooped up a large portion of vanilla ice cream into a cone, wrapped it in a napkin, and handed it to him.

“Have a nice day, sir!”

“Thank you, you too.” Frederick smiled.

He decided that he would continue his walk in the park while he ate his ice cream.

He licked the sweet treat and was suddenly thrown back into his childhood. He remembered his mom patting his head and telling him that she was proud to call him her son and that she would always love him. He smiled.

He walked along the path and watched people pass him. Some were joggers, some were moms or dads pushing strollers with their friends, some were walking by themselves, just like he was.

He licked his ice cream again, marveling in the amazing flavor. But he licked it a bit too hard, and the ice cream came out of the cone and fell onto the ground with a splat.

Frederick stared at it. The white treat was slowly melting, and he could already see a line of ants making their way to it.

He let out a sob.

He didn’t know what to do, so he dumped the cone in the nearest trashcan and left the park.

He walked back home with a mask of disappointment sewn onto his face and a heavy weight in his chest. As he was walking past Bella’s, he glanced toward the trashcan that the vomit-covered muffin was sitting in. He tried to forget about that, too.

He kicked a pebble as he was walking on the sidewalk in his neighborhood, and he noticed that the wind had picked up and dark clouds were rolling in. Brilliant.

He didn’t even bother picking up his pace; he knew he wouldn’t get home in time. And sure enough, rain started to fall. Hard.

He let out another sob and ducked his head so the raindrops wouldn’t get in his eyes. But, of course, they did.

With blurry vision, he walked up his driveway and put his hand into his wet pocket, looking for his keys.

But they weren’t there.

He checked all of his pockets and checked them again, then a third time. Oh, no. No, no no. He could _not_ be locked out of his house. Not _now_!

He pressed his face up to his glass door and looked through it to the table where he kept his keys. And sure enough, there they were.

He groaned and leaned his back against the door and slowly slid down it, not caring that he was only getting himself even more wet.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but it was for quite a long time. He shouted at the sky, asking why him, why him? What did he do to deserve this? Today was supposed to be his happy day. It had started out happy, but it had only gotten worse as the day went on.

Thunder boomed overhead and lightning lit up the sky, startling him.

He didn’t have a key under the mat and he hadn’t given a spare key to a neighbor. She was completely out of luck.

Unless…

He stood up quickly and walked to his back yard. He couldn’t see very well and the ground was muddy and slippery, and he fell onto his butt and landed in a puddle of mud. He shouted and cursed and groaned at nothing and everything.

He tripped as he was walking up the steps to his back porch and almost fell again. He walked up to the kitchen window, which thankfully was open. He wedged his fingers under it and lifted it open and crawled inside.

He peeled off each article of clothing with some difficulty as he trudged upstairs to his bedroom, leaving a trail of wet clothes on the floor and up the stairs. He pulled off his boxers as he entered his bedroom and flopped onto his bed.

And he began to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
